Familiar Enemies
by nanoteknology
Summary: Murphy's birthday quickly goes sour as Harry is haunted by the ghost of vampires past.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own the Dresden Files in any way, shape or form, nor am I using these characters for anything more than my own amusement.

Author's Note: This fic was co-written by my friend Snarky- I like it., and we spent an equal amount of time writing it. I only get to post this because I spent the time to type it up and proof it. She deserves as much credit as I do.

Author's Note II: Snarky- I like it and I wrote this before reading Small Favor, and we realized there are a few similarities between it and this fic. Therefore, all coincidences are purely coincidental.

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Some days, I really think the Blue Beetle hates me. The rest of the world seems to be laughing along.

I was walking, seeing as my car was out of commission for the third time this week. And, of course, it was raining. I saw my brother walking towards me, probably coming from his day job at the salon. That, at least, was fortunate, since I was heading to find him anyway; now I didn't have to walk as far. He was as underdressed for the Chicago weather as always, wearing tight black jeans and a ripped and faded t-shirt showing off strategic points of bare flesh. His converse hi-tops were probably the newest part of his outfit, still black enough to match his well-groomed and damp hair.

People were staring at him, of course. It really wasn't fair, but to be honest, I wasn't looking my best.

I was wearing an ugly shirt and too-baggy jeans that have never really fit me. My wet hair was too long and shaggy and my boots—covered in mud—weren't particularly attractive.

"What happened to you?" Thomas asked as he met me, amused.

"This mud is a pathetic excuse for earth," I grumbled as I trudged along with him.

"Looks like you went swimming in it," my brother observed. I shot him an annoyed look which he ignored, in a typical Thomas fashion. We finally stepped back into the shelter of the salon-slash-coffee shop where Thomas worked, dripping all over the place. "So, Ah-ree, what is it that you need?"

I cringed at his fake French accent, but I knew he had to keep up appearances here. So now, at least to the twenty or so people sitting in the café, we were not brothers, but gay lovers.

I'm not sure why I bother to go there anymore.

"I need your help, Thomas," I told him as if it wasn't obvious.

"Of course, of course, Ah-ree. Perhaps we should take this somewhere more private?" He asked, a note of concern in his voice. I nodded, but gave him a smile to assure him it was no big deal. We headed towards one of the café's tables that was farther in the back.

"Sure, Toe-moss," I replied with my most annoying grin. I settled back into the vinyl seat, becoming serious. "Well, Murphy's birthday is coming up…and…"

"What are you going to get her?"

"See, that's the problem. I've never really gone shopping for a woman before and I don't want to go alone." Thomas looked like he was about to burst out laughing. I couldn't blame him. It sounded lame, even to me.

"You're afraid to go _shopping_?"

I fumed.

"Well, if you put it that way…!"

"What about last year?" Thomas snuck in before I completely gave up on his help.

I remembered getting Murphy a bagel and some coffee on her birthday last year, during a big case. It was nothing big, and I had almost forgotten about the gesture. There hadn't really been time for anything else.

"I was busy. So was she."

Thomas nodded, only half-listening. He knew how stressful times like that were for me. Then, he grinned like a madman. "You could get her some sexy lingerie," he said with a wink.

"Thomas," I sucked in a breath, "I am not getting _Murphy_, my _best friend_, any…" I shook my head, imagining actually buying said lingerie and giving it to Murph. Trust me, it wouldn't end well. "Just _no_."

He held his hands up in mock surrender. "_Okay_ Harry. Geez, it was just a suggestion!"

I scowled at him. He was starting to sound too much like Bob for his own good. Although Bob would have probably also have suggested smutty romance novels and movies involving a particular actress named Trixie Vixen.

"Harry?"

I snapped out of my horror-struck reverie.

"What?"

"I said, we could always go to the department store. Plenty of un-trendy clothes there." Really, my brother was turning out to be no help at all.

"I'm not getting Murph clothes. Besides, I don't even know what size she wears."

"How about chocolate? All girls love chocolate, it's a proven fact."

I fixed him with my most level gaze.

"I'm not a 'chocolates' kind of guy," I said. Thomas took one appraising look at my attire and agreed.

"What do you suggest then, little brother?"

"I don't know!" I threw my hands up in frustration. This was not going well. There was an awkward silence as I picked at the fancy blue tablecloth between my brother and I. When I looked back up, Thomas looked like he was expecting me to say something. "What?"

"What, Harry? You came all the way to my salon to ask me what to get your girl. Seriously, if you're going to ask what I think you're going to ask, I'm sure I could set something up," he said, motioning to the back room where the salon was located.

The thought both excited and sickened me. While I didn't really want my brother feeding on my best friend, it would be nice to see Murph look…girly for a change.

"As long as you aren't the one cutting her hair…" I said, seriously considering the offer.

"So it's settled then."

"Sure. I'll just get her one free trip to the salon."

"And…?"

"And what?" I asked, frustrated at my brother's imprecision. He rolled his eyes as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Flowers, Harry. You're getting her flowers."

"Do I have to?"

"Yes," Thomas demanded, and I knew I couldn't fight him on this.

I supposed it wouldn't hurt.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own the Dresden Files in any way, shape or form, nor am I using these characters for anything more than my own amusement.

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An hour after my ordeal with my brother, I was standing in front of Murphy's door with bright yellow flowers in one hand and her door knocker in the other. My brother had talked me into buying a nice shirt and a pair of slacks, and compared to this morning I didn't look half bad.

But, despite all of my preparation, I still couldn't bring myself to knock on her door. Thomas offered me some encouragement in the form of loudly honking the horn of the car I had to borrow from him (the Blue Beetle was still in the capable hands of Mechanic Mike).

I finally accomplished two feeble knocks at the front door, which luckily did the job. Murphy answered her door in gray sweatpants and a casual blue t-shirt. Even on her day off from work, her short blonde hair was brushed and had a shower-y dampness about it. Stars and stones, even when she was answering the door she was gorgeous.

I swear to you, at that moment the rain stopped and the atmosphere got ten degrees warmer.

"Hey," she said, and I realized I was staring. I really hoped she didn't notice. "Harry. What's up?"

"Oh, uh, happy birthday!" I said, half-thrusting the flowers at her. She gave me a small smile as she took them, and ducked her head slightly in embarrassment.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." We stood there for a second, letting the clammy breeze wash over us. She finally invited me in her house, and I looked around. There was a lot of old lace everywhere—a remnant of her grandmother—with just a few touches of Murph. I pulled up my courage.

"I…uh, there's a present there. For you," I stammered, completely losing all coherency. It's almost funny how I can face down numerous supernatural bad guys without panicking, but I totally lose my head over giving Murphy flowers. Yeah. _Almost_ funny. Seriously, we aren't always this stunted.

"Oh. Thanks!" She looked at the flowers and pulled out the card for one free treatment at Thomas' hair salon. "What's this?" She set down the flowers on one of her numerous cloth doilies so she could turn the card over in her hands. "…Dresden, you chauvinist pig." Murphy told me with a hint of a smile on her face. I smiled back, and we were quiet for a few seconds more as she turned the card over again. Her next words she spoke carefully. "If you're not busy tonight at eight, we could…go out for dinner or something," she glanced up at my eyes for a brief second, but then looked away.

"Yes!" I responded too quickly, almost before she finished her sentence. "That'd be great, Murph." She grinned, and so did I.

"Great."

"Great."

"See you then."

"Bye."

I walked out her front door, feeling better than I had in days.

When I sat down in the passenger seat of Thomas' car, I had a big, stupid grin on my face.

"So, how did it go?"

"Can I borrow your car again tonight?" I answered in a question. Thomas was unusually perceptive.

"Dinner date, huh?"

"Yep."

"Good for you, little brother."

Now all I had to do was wait.

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"_Thomas_!"

"Oh, right," my brother said sheepishly, backing away from the bathroom door of my apartment, "but it's almost eight."

I was just stepping out of the shower—(still not dressed, Thomas!)—which I finally decided to take about ten minutes too late.

"I know, I know!" I called back, throwing on the nice clothes from earlier. While Thomas may be able to get ready in a matter of minutes if he really wants to, I'm still only human. I ran to his car, ignoring the laughter of a certain pain-in-the-ass brother. I had an important date to get to and all that.

"Okay," I said, taking a second to towel off my still-wet hair, "How do I look?"

My brother took a quick look at my clothes and appearance, and then shrugged.

"Not bad, I guess."

"That'll have to do."

We finally arrived at the nice Italian restaurant Murph and I agreed on. It wasn't very expensive or particularly romantic, but the food was good and the waiters' fake Italian accents were at least laughable. Murphy was already at the front door waiting for me, and she looked…

Wow.

Her shoulder-length hair was slightly curled at the edges and she was wearing a tasteful bit of makeup, evidence she had made good of her day at the salon. She was wearing a classy mid-length black skirt and a blue shirt that matched her eyes. Twin pearl earrings dangled just below her ears, and she wore a smart black denim jacket over the outfit. There was even a slight wind to blow her hair beautifully in wisps around her face.

I couldn't tell, but I was probably drooling.

A car honked loudly, since I was still standing in the middle of the parking lot. Murphy followed the noise and spotted me, smiling. I tried not to trip on my face or do anything stupid as I walked towards her.

"Hey," I said, waving.

"Hey," she returned.

I came to my senses and offered her my arm, opening the door as we walked into the restaurant. To my surprise, she accepted both acts of kindness without comment.

"You look amazing," my mouth blurted. I silently told it to get an imagination, but it responded by mumbling something involving the words "gorgeous" and "angelic."

"Thank you," Murphy responded slowly, caught off guard.

We were seated quickly and I ordered a plate of spaghetti and meatballs, knowing full well my nice new shirt would probably be ruined. Murphy, seeing my clothing predicament, joined me with a plate of her own spaghetti. A particular scene from _The Lady and the Tramp_ went through my head, but I quickly dismissed it. We spent a few minutes eating in silence, which was suddenly broken by the sound of Murphy's cellphone going off.

Her head pointed toward her purse with a particularly scornful look. If I were that cellphone, I would fear the wrath of Karrin Murphy.

"Hello?" she snapped. There was a pause, and her look moved from contempt to concern. She nodded twice, muttered "okay," and hung up. Murph gave me an apologizing look, and broke the news. "I've got a case. I'm really sorry, but I have to take this."

I completely understood. Murph's reputation had by this point dwindled to almost nothing, most of which was my fault. This was why her next comment surprised me.

"Would you like to come with me?"

"Are you sure?" I asked, taken aback. She only shrugged.

"Why not?"

"Well, recently, I've done your job more harm than I've helped it."

"It's okay, really. Plus, I don't think I can figure this one out without you." She winked at me, and damn, it was adorable.

Needless to say, I gave in.

The crime was a murder, of course, but the police couldn't quite figure out how the murderer dropped the body off in the middle of a still-open crime scene without any officers noticing…or more importantly, how his lungs disappeared from his body without any marks on his skin.

The scene was an old one; on the site of a normally open-and-shut murder investigation that was only still open because of a technicality that would soon be fixed. It was located in a warehouse only a few blocks from the restaurant Murphy and I were eating at, so we went on foot. As we walked, we caught sight of a couple kissing on a park bench, not really caring who was watching them.

For a second, I wished that could be me and Murphy. Touching. Kissing. Loving.

But it wasn't.

And we weren't.

Murphy nudged me and motioned her head towards the couple. "They're cute," she noted. I turned to her, a little surprised.

"Yeah, uh, I was just thinking that." I smiled at her and said, "If only all relationships could be like that."

She smiled back, and we walked together onto Death Road.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own the Dresden Files in any way, shape or form, nor am I using these characters for anything more than my own amusement.

Author's Note: Word count for this chapter?: 1,337. No lie.

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When we finally caught sight of the warehouse where the crime scene was located, Murphy sucked in a sharp breath.

"Now I know why this place seemed familiar," she half-whispered.

_Oh, I don't know, because it looks like every other warehouse in the world?_ I thought, but kept my comments to myself.

"Why is that, Murph?" I asked instead.

"Because I had a case there two days ago." As she continued, she looked less like my friend Murphy and more like a beaten, tired cop. "It was a bad drug deal. Three men were shot and killed, and the killer has thus far eluded us."

"Think he could be behind this?" I asked.

"Your everyday drug dealer taking out someone's lungs without a mark on their body? Somehow, I doubt it." She sighed. "Anything you know that could pull this off?"

"Believe it or not, there are quite a few supernatural creatures with the power and bad attitude to rip out internal organs and worse," I replied, grimacing. "Demons, Faeries, almost anything from the Nevernever."

"Great," Murph groaned, "thanks for narrowing that down for me."

I gave her my best "annoying wizard" grin.

"That's why I get paid the big bucks, Murph."

The first thing I noticed as we walked into the warehouse was a lot of dried blood on the walls and floor. The air smelled like death and iron.

"Is this all from one guy?" I asked.

"No. The blood is from the three murders two days ago. Forensics only cleaned up the bodies; they didn't get to the blood."

I nodded, and looked around for the most recent body. I finally found him laid out on the floor, stripped to the waist. His arms and legs were laid out, spread-eagled. He would have looked normal enough if it wasn't for his face, which was colored an ugly purple twisted in a permanent state of pain and shock. I stared at him for a moment, feeling my anger of misused magic growing inside me. I turned away, my blood boiling, when I saw…

"Hold up." I stopped, pointing at the familiar object in front of me. "Is that my blasting rod?"

Murph turned back from the body to follow my gaze, her mildly curious expression contrasting with my utter astonishment. With a bewildered shake of my head I leaned over to pick it up. Before I could, however, I was stopped by one of the forensics officers.

"Hey buddy, you might not want to pick that up," he told me, "that's evidence."

Hell's bells. A lot of things could zap a pair of lungs out of a human, including the only wizard in the phone book.

Damn ghost crows.

_I had been running from some ethereal assassin crows while on the way to my apartment. _Assassin crows_ are things a normal person should not have to worry about when running errands. But then again, I had never been a normal person. I had just dropped off the Blue Beetle at Mike's, and the rain was just starting to come down in big, fat, drops. I was wearing a pair of old, worn out tennis shoes that slipped in the mud as I ran. I resolved to put on some boots when I finally got to my apartment._

_That is, if I made it there in one piece._

_About two-thirds of the way into a particularly dark alleyway that I probably shouldn't have been running into, I dropped a life-saving device—my blasting rod. After that, I remember a lot of frantic ducking and diving from crows and some really sloppy evocations… after the dust cleared, I was left without my blasting rod and with a few new crow-beak shaped bruises._

At the time, I was annoyed at the loss of such a useful wizarding tool, especially one that took so long to make, but not particularly worried.

Although I see now, I should have been.

Murphy gave me a suspicious look. I could see in her face that she was beginning to doubt me.

"Look, Murph, I didn't do this," I protested.

"Talk fast, Dresden."

"Okay. This morning I got jumped and my blasting rod was stolen."

"Stolen by whom?"

"Umm…" I said, shifting uncomfortably, "…ghostly assassin crows."

She looked at me skeptically for a moment, and then shrugged. "Okay, okay, I believe you. No one has _that_ much of an imagination."

"Thanks, Murph." I took a step back from her and opened my Sight to survey the crime scene.

The room now seemed to be covered in black ice, coating every surface and glinting darkly. The man lying on the ground in front of us was now bleeding sluggishly from a basketball-sized hole in his chest. As I looked up, I Saw a ghostly figure standing over him, obscured but for a pair of Cheshire cat-style teeth that were shining a bright white. The figure spoke with a familiar voice I couldn't quite place, but his words were crystal-clear in my head.

"I've been waiting for you, cousin," it said, its voice chilling me to the bone. As soon as the figure spoke, it vanished. I released my Sight then, shaking.

"Harry?" Murphy asked, her tone concerned, "What was that?"

"Hell's bells," I swore, "Black magic."

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I was sitting in my parked car a few minutes away from the crime scene—magically repaired by the oh-so-talented Mike—and ash was raining from the sky, smearing my window with smudged gray lines. I can tell it's not my day today, what with demon crows, losing my blasting rod, and not to mention the steadily growing amount of mud. And, to top it all off, raining ash…well, at least I was dry.

It was nighttime, and there were surprisingly few people in the streets. To tell the truth, in a big city like Chicago that's pretty creepy. I was sure that all this mayhem was because of Nevernever nonsense, but how did it get everybody off the streets?

Speak of the devil and she will come?

Madeline Raith crept out of the shadows near the Blue Beetle like the lust-eating vampire she was. I got out of the car and walked up to her, cautiously.

"What are you doing here?" I asked. She stood up to face me at her full height, and I was surprised to see we were almost eye-to-eye.

"Dresden," she said, simply a statement with almost no inflection. Madeline held up a hand, palm up, and caught one of the flakes of ash falling from the sky. "There is turbulence in the Nevernever. What have you done?"

Her accusation confused me. I hadn't done anything in the Nevernever lately, and I certainly didn't think I had done anything to hurt it. I blinked.

"What?" I replied, eloquent as ever. Madeline ground her teeth in frustration.

"Don't test me, wizard. You have done something to upset the spirits! I can feel it." The spirits were upset? This was news to me, but it would probably explain the raining ash.

"Look, whatever it is you think I did, I didn't do it."

Madeline narrowed her eyes, obviously not believing me.

Just then, I heard a cawing noise, and looked up to see one black crow sitting on a dumpster behind Madeline Raith. She turned around to follow my gaze; then turned back a second later.

"What are you looking at?"

"Um…nothing," I assured her. So she couldn't see the ghost crow sitting three feet behind her?

What was going on?

I was about to ask her as much when I heard police sirens in the distance. She looked as surprised as me, so I quickly decided they had nothing to do with her. Either way, magic and your everyday policeman don't mix well, so Madeline and I went our separate ways.

And if I happened to accidentally trip her into the mud on her way out, I certainly did not look back to watch her slide around in the muck.

I'm a professional, after all.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own the Dresden Files in any way, shape or form, nor am I using these characters for anything more than my own amusement.

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"Bob!" I called, climbing down to my basement.

"Just five more minutes, mom," he grumbled back. Some days I wanted to smash that skull.

Luckily for Bob, however, he was a useful resource. I tapped on his skull as I walked past his shelf, careful not to disturb the various romance novels and lingerie catalogs that covered it.

"I'm serious, Bob," I told him. His orange lights rolled in their sockets.

"When _aren't_ you?" he replied. "Really, Harry, you need to lighten up. Might I suggest--"

"_No_, Bob. No time for that sort of talk right now. Ash is raining from the sky."

"Maybe there was a big fire somewhere, and the ash just blew in on the wind. Not uncommon in Chicago, if I recall."

I shook my head. "I thought of that, but there hasn't been a recent fire for miles and it's been raining water almost all day anyway. Besides, the ash was falling straight down."

"That's different, then. And to tell you the truth, I've been noticing something too." Bob now sounded genuinely intrigued, and I think I knew what he was talking about.

"Turbulence in the Nevernever?"

"How did you guess?"

"A little bird told me." I sat in the chair across from Bob's shelf and leaned back, suddenly tired. "So, what's happening?"

"The spirits in the Nevernever are getting angry. I'm not sure what irritated them, but some of them are breaking out." I wasn't sure, but I thought I heard a hint of fear in his voice.

"Didn't that happen a few years ago?" I asked.

"Not the same thing. Those spirits were being _let_ out. Now they're _breaking_ out."

"What does that mean?"

"Bad news, boss."

I grimaced. Time to test a theory. "Could it have anything to do with Madeline Raith?"

"Madeline Raith? Your half-brother's cousin?" I nodded. "Ooh, she's a hot one!"

I rolled my eyes, ignoring his last comment. "Yes. That Madeline Raith."

Bob paused, thinking. "Not unless she died in a particularly brutal way and I didn't notice."

"Unfortunately, no," I said, "I just saw her on my way home. Though, she didn't know what was going on either. She accused me of messing with the spirits."

"Uh huh," Bob said, now disinterested in this particular subject. "So, how did your date with the blonde go? I'm assuming she'll be stopping by later?"

"No, that date was interrupted by a particularly grisly murder. A man's lungs were taken out of his chest with no physical marks on his body. It was black magic, Bob." As soon as I spoke, my mind made the connection. Bob, however, beat me to it.

"It probably was done by a powerful gho—"

"No, no, wait! It's my case, I get to figure it out," I said, probably sounding like an impatient five-year-old. Bob grudgingly let me continue. "It was probably one of the more powerful ghosts breaking out of the Nevernever. Could a ghost do that, Bob?"

"As I was _about_ to say, yes. But it's still highly unusual. Normally ghosts who break out of their own accord don't have the power to do any harm unless they're really, really mad."

Suddenly, I thought of something else.

"Mad enough to leave physical marks on a human?" I pulled back my sleeve to show Bob my arm, which was still faintly covered by crow beak-shaped bruises.

"Ouch," he said, "That's one nasty poltergeist problem you've got there. Pissed off any dead people lately?"

"I'm not really sure," I replied, "but even if I did, why would they choose to attack me now?"

Bob spoke as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Because you're happy, boss. You're in_ love_."

"In love? With who?"

"The cute blonde cop! Don't try to deny it, Harry, I'm an expert on these matters."

That simple statement spoken with so much clarity made me feel many years older. "No, Bob. I don't think it's going to work out between Murphy and I. We're just…" I stopped, not sure how I wanted to end that sentence. What _were_ we? Too different? Only friends? I wasn't sure how exactly I wanted to classify our relationship. "Regardless of why I'm being attacked now, I think the most important thing is to figure out how to stop it."

"Good idea."

We sat in silence for a few minutes, trying to formulate a plan. Well, at least_ I_ was trying. That was until something dawned on me with sickening realization.

"Bob," I said, feeling ill, "This ghost…it won't go after Murphy, will it?"

He said nothing. Which was probably the worst thing I could have heard.

I was out the door before he could think of any excuses.

It barely even occurred to me that it was close to midnight and Murphy would probably be sleeping. I was too busy imagining how she would look if I made it to her house too late. Luckily, I had a key to her house, since I was ready to blast her door open with magic.

I was way beyond worrying about thresholds.

I bounded up her stairs, through the living room, and past pictures of Murphy's childhood, her house becoming a blur. When I reached her bedroom door, I slammed it open with considerably more force than was needed. As soon as I saw Murph, I grinned ear to ear, completely overjoyed.

Murphy was sitting up in bed, her gun pointed at my chest.

As I sat down slowly on the side of her bed and saw her confused face, I realized another thing. My magic was intact. I'm always welcome in the Murphy home.

And as I looked into Murphy's face, her eyes, I realized one more thing.

Hells bells. Bob was right.

And the soulgaze began.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own the Dresden Files in any way, shape or form, nor am I using these characters for anything more than my own amusement.

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My soulgaze with Murphy lasted only a few seconds, like every other soulgaze, but it still felt like an eternity. After a few moments of looking into each other's eyes, her blue eyes melted away into an altogether different scene,

I saw Murph now as she will always be for me, an avenging angel with blue fire burning in her eyes. In her saintly white robe, she was bruised and dirtied and absolutely glorious. I wasn't sure where she was specifically, as she was too distracting for me to look at the geography of her soul. All I knew for certain was that she was next to me and it felt _really_ nice.

As I looked at her however, there seemed to be pale shadows moving around her, always appearing just out of the corner of my eye. I looked at them a little harder, and the shadows fully materialized behind her. They finally took their form behind a crumbling brick wall I hadn't noticed behind Murph before. But the brick wall wasn't nearly strong enough to keep out the beast that loomed just at the back of it.

The beast was dark, made up of so many layers of pale shadow but seeming to suck all the light out from around it. Its wings blocked out the entire background, large enough to be scenery all to itself. A bleached-white skeleton was chained helplessly to its front, reminding me of where I had seen the monster before.

When I last Saw Kincaid.

It _was_ Kincaid. Or, at least, the demon I knew he had inside of him.

I saw now that a part of Murphy, walled up behind a crumbling tough-girl façade, was fearful of the supernatural…and everything I stood for. Not only was she afraid of the half-demon beast Kincaid was, she was afraid of me. The soulgaze then frayed back to a world no less real than the one I had just witnessed, and I saw Murphy's face change from angel to woman.

"Murph," I told her, "you can put the gun down now."

She did as I said, carelessly dropping the gun on the floor, never breaking eye contact with me. When she came close again, I wiped tears from her cheeks that she didn't even seem to notice.

"I can still see it," she whispered, almost ashamed. I smiled at her to assure her everything would be alright, like always.

"And I'll always see you," I reassured her. My expression then became serious. "Murph. You know I'll always be there to protect you, right?"

"Yeah," she told me, but she didn't look any happier about it. She frowned and took a deep breath before continuing. "Harry, I know you make mistakes, and I'm afraid for you. And I'm…afraid for everyone now. Those monsters and creatures we fight seem to be everywhere, but it's not only them I'm afraid of. What if you let yourself…?" she paused, measuring her words, "let yourself die? To save everyone."

I wasn't sure what to say to that. I wanted to tell her that everything would be okay, and nothing could happen to us. But I would be lying. The world is a scary place, and the more you know about it, the darker it gets. And I realized that I _would_ give my life for any of my friends.

Billy Borden and the Werewolves.

The Carpenter family.

Thomas.

Murph.

However much I valued my life, I valued theirs just as much. Maybe that was the reason why wizards didn't have that many friends. So I said the only thing I could.

"I know," I told her, and it was the truth. We waited a moment before speaking again.

"Harry," Murph started, "why are you here? What are _you_ so afraid of that you have to come barging into my house at midnight?"

I dropped my gaze. "I have ghosts after me. I'm pretty sure they killed the man in the warehouse, and I thought they might try to go after you."

Murphy was silent for a moment more, processing the information. "Why? How?" she asked simply. That was Murphy, always the cop. Motive and opportunity.

"They're mad, Murph, and anger has power. As for why, well…" I hesitated.

"Spit it out, Dresden," Murphy ordered.

"I love you."

Funny how those three words can destroy a relationship.

I was only just realizing how my mouth betrayed me when Murphy stood, her face unreadable. She closed her bedroom door on my heart.

I left her house without another word, caught up in my thoughts. Although my mind dwelled on many dark things, the one that repeated most in my mind was this: What was wrong with me that every time I told a woman I loved her she shut the door in my face? I decided that the thing I needed most now was sleep. It was just past midnight, and I still hadn't slept. I just hoped nothing particularly vicious attacked me on my way home, as I wasn't exactly in my right mind.

Surprisingly enough, nothing happened on the way back to my apartment. The night was as quiet as it had ever been in Chicago. But even in a city of almost three million people, it was very, very empty.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own the Dresden Files in any way, shape or form, nor am I using these characters for anything more than my own amusement.

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Getting back to my apartment, at least, was comforting. It was still as dark and cold as the night outside, but it was home. Mouse and Mister were curled up on my couch, but they both woke up as I walked in the door. Mister slammed into my legs as was his customary greeting, and I was tired enough for him to knock me over. I stumbled toward the couch, too tired to make it to my bed. I collapsed onto it, asleep before my head hit the cushions.

I woke up to the sound of my phone ringing. It must have been morning, but it was still dark. I picked up the phone and answered it groggily.

"Hello?"

"Dresden, it's almost noon. I've been trying to reach you all day," came Murphy's voice over the phone.

"Almost noon?" I asked, not fully coherent. I checked a second time outside, but the sun was nowhere to be found. "It's still dark out," I informed her. Her loud sigh on the other end came with a blast of static.

"I know. It's some abnormal, prolonged eclipse of the sun that's been all over the news today. But that's not why I called."

My muddled brain was still going over the odd eclipse. Could it have anything to do with the turbulence in the Nevernever? My instincts told me yes, but Murphy wouldn't let me think about it long.

"The police suspect us for the murder of Robert Dow," she said, and it took a moment for the name to register.

"…The lung-less guy?"

"Yes," she replied, and I could sense some hurt in her voice. I sat up, concerned.

"Why?" I asked.

"I was the only one with access to the crime scene without a solid alibi—"

"You were on a dat--…I mean, at a restaurant with me!"

"Yeah, and you're a self-proclaimed wizard, the most obvious suspect for disappearing lungs. It doesn't help that we're clearly friends." I nodded even though she couldn't see me, and got up to get a Coke, lost in thought.

"I don't have time to answer questions," I told her. "I need to figure out when the next ghost will strike."

"I understand, but the police will probably be coming to your apartment soon."

"Should I get out of my apartment then?"

She paused. "As much as it goes against my principles to say it, yes."

I spared a few more seconds to come up with a plan. "Okay, I've got it. Meet me at McAnnally's. It's a pub not far from my house. We should be safe to talk more there." It was the safest place I could think of, both from humans and the supernatural world.

"I've heard of it," Murphy told me.

"Good. I'll see you there." I was about to hang up when she interrupted me.

"Harry, about last night…"

"We'll talk later, I promise," I assured her. What she said next was obscured by my phone's static, but it sounded like:

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too," I told the now-dead telephone. I would have called her back, but there wasn't any time. I gave Mouse, who had been standing next to me for support, a pat on the head. "Some days, it's not worth getting out of bed," I informed him. His only reply was to give me a doggy grin and a lick on the hand. I gave him a smile and filled up his food and water dishes, but didn't wait around to watch him and Mister eat. As I walked out of my apartment and onto the street, I had a distinct feeling that something was wrong.

I was being watched.

I could feel it, a tingling feeling at the back of my neck making my hair stand on end. At first I thought I was just being paranoid, but then the street got darker. The streetlights, which were still on at noon, were subtly dimming. Even as alert as I was, I didn't notice the lighting change until the lights were almost out. That was when I saw it.

"Hello, Harry Dresden," called the shadowy figure I had Seen at the crime scene yesterday. It was standing, or rather, floating, ten yards in front of me and about three feet off the ground. As it got closer, I knew why its voice had seemed so familiar before.

"Madrigal Raith?" I asked, shocked.

I now saw his face, against all odds, wreathed in shadow and darkness and wearing a sinister smirk. "The very same," he replied, despite the fact that I knew he was dead. Hell, for all intents and purposes, _I_ had killed him. So, was he the ghost causing all my problems? Seeing the revenge burning in his eyes, I figured it was likely. I snapped to my senses and reached for my blasting rod. Or, at least, where my blasting rod _would_ have been had I not lost it the day before. The shock must have showed on my face because Madrigal let out a disgusting laugh. "No blasting rod? What a shame. I wonder where it could be?" So he was behind the ghost crows too? I guess I should have connected the dots earlier, but it wouldn't have done me any good. "Speechless?" His satisfaction at seeing me weaponless was written all over his ghostly face.

"Never," I retorted. It seemed I could only engage in witty banter when my life was in danger. Speaking of which…

"You killed me, Dresden," Madrigal snarled, his ghostly body dangerously close now; "I'm just returning the favor." I would have responded to that, only I realized I couldn't breathe. Madrigal had one hand firmly clasped around my throat, and he was surprisingly tangible. As stars started floating in front of my eyes, I took the strength I had left to plant my muddy boot into Madrigal's stomach. He let go, surprised that I had been able to hit him. I was surprised as well, since I never thought ghosts could be harmed by mortal forces. I didn't take time to dwell on it, however.

"_Fuego_," I gasped, still not able to breathe properly. My lack of focus was apparent in the evocation, but it more or less did its job. Madrigal was thrown back several yards by the wall of flame that erupted from my hand. The storefronts on either side of the street were worse for the wear, but I didn't do enough structural damage to burn anything down. Probably.

Without my blasting rod to guide the evocation, it backfired slightly, throwing me back as well. Fortunately for me, I got up first and hightailed it back to my apartment before Madrigal recovered.

I was lucky. Very lucky.

Almost as soon as I got over my threshold, Madrigal arrived at my door. He was forced back by my wards, but kept battering away at them anyway. I was fairly confident that they would hold, but Madrigal was persistent and growing steadily stronger. To make a long story short: I didn't have much time.

I hastily snatched up my staff and dove over my couch. I had barely touched the ground when my door flew backwards into my apartment. I stood up as soon as I was sure I wouldn't be killed by my own steel reinforced door and pulled together the energy from the ridiculous amount of fear I was feeling at that particular moment.

"_Ventas servitas!_"

I prayed that the combination of the evocation and my threshold would send him crawling away, and I waited for the dust to clear.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own the Dresden Files in any way, shape or form, nor am I using these characters for anything more than my own amusement.

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I didn't have to wait long to see the aftermath of my evocation. Against all odds, Madrigal's shadowy figure stood at my doorway, unfazed.

While Madrigal may have been unharmed, my apartment certainly wasn't. Books from my shelves lay strewn across the floor with their pages ripped and bent. My rugs were even more haphazard than before, and posters were torn off the walls from the severity of the wind. My evocation, although not as uncontrolled as before, was still not accustomed to the small space of my apartment. But if it had had that much of a devastating effect, why wasn't Madrigal harmed physically like before? I didn't have time to dwell on it, however, as Madrigal moved to attack me again. I gathered my will, bracing myself, when I heard a bark. But this wasn't just any bark. It was a steady "woof" that seemed to shake the entire building, and it could have only come from one dog.

Mouse appeared in the living room, calmly barking at Madrigal's ghost. The ghostly figure flinched with each sound, howling in pain at my dog's powerful bark. He backed off slowly until he was gone. Mouse let out a few more barks for good measure, and then walked back to the couch I was still cowering behind. He looked quite proud of himself, and I gave him a big hug in return.

"Good dog, Mouse!" I told him happily. Despite his name, Mouse had the heart of a lion. I then stood up, attempting to walk to my door…and fell flat on my face. I swore very loudly, my ankle now throbbing painfully. I figured I probably twisted my ankle jumping over the couch. Again, the irony wasn't lost on me. I had just survived a battle with a malevolent vampire ghost only to be struck down by a couch. I sat there staring at my already swelling ankle for a good minute, holding back the urge to laugh at the absurdity of my situation.

I gripped the side of what was left of my couch and pulled myself to my feet…or, more accurately, foot. I surveyed the room, and was somewhat relieved to see that it wasn't as trashed as I first thought. Toot-Toot and his faerie clean-up crew could probably fix it up again without too much trouble. I made a mental note to myself to get more pizza as I hobbled back out on the sidewalk.

Using my staff as a makeshift crutch, I began the long journey to McAnnally's. As I shuffled along, I noticed the sky getting slowly lighter. I hoped it was a sign Madrigal would be gone for good, but somehow I doubted it.

I finally got to the pub after what seemed like an eternity of limping and cursing. Mac gave me a strange look as I came in, but then shrugged and pointed to the table where Murphy was sitting.

"Thanks, Mac," I told him, and he grunted in response. From the lack of crowd that night, I could have spotted Murphy easily without Mac's help. She sat at one of the tables near the front, picking at her burger with a particularly annoyed expression. With one look at the clock I understood why—I was almost an hour late. She looked up at me as I approached her table, her expression morphing from annoyance to fury.

"What the _hell_, Harry? What took you so long?" she snapped. I took the seat opposite her and half-collapsed into it, completely exhausted yet again.

"Look, Murph, I can explain," I began. "the ghost of vampires past is finally catching up with me. He's the one that took my blasting rod, and he's far stronger than ever before." Murphy looked confused, so I leaned over the table dramatically and whispered "Madrigal Raith."

"Oh," Murphy said plainly, and she frowned in thought. "So he kicked the crap out of you and _that's _why you're late?" I floundered.

"Well…yes." It sounded worse when she said it.

"So what are you going to do about it?"

"I was hoping you'd ask me that." I took out the holy katana that I had lugged all the way here (which, by the way, is an extremely difficult task when hindered by a sprained ankle). I laid it out on the table between myself and Murphy, averting my eyes from hers by staring at the sword's polished black case. "I can't fight Madrigal alone."

"Why Harry, this is so sudden!…What is it?" she said, with snark almost worthy of myself.

"_Fidelacchius_," I stated as she raised one blonde eyebrow.

"A sword of the Cross? Like Michael's?" I nodded. She continued "Can it hurt Madrigal?"

"Yeah," I said, "I think it can _kill_ him…well, in a manner of speaking."

"And you want me to use it." Murphy concluded. "Isn't that kind of a permanent job?"

I paused. It didn't feel right to force my friend into this. But the last time I had tried to use a sword of the Cross for my selfish reasons, it hadn't turned out so well. On the other hand, Murphy was a girl, and I didn't like putting girls in danger as a general rule. Still… "Kind of," I admitted.

She sighed. "Of course I'll help you, Harry." I tried to read the expression on her face, but her face remained blank. "Now…how exactly are we going to do this?"

Down to business. "I'll have to figure out a way to find Madrigal."

"Couldn't you just…oh, I don't know, summon him?"

I grimaced. "In theory, maybe, but I would be forced to use far more energy than I can spare at the moment. If and when it comes down to a fight, I don't want to have to sit on the sidelines." Or leave Murphy alone in a fight against my old enemy.

"That's comforting. I should be much safer with a guy with a big stick."

"Bite me." We both smiled and stood up, but as I stood I put too much weight on my ankle and feel. Murphy moved fast and somehow managed to catch me before I hit the ground. We ended in a somewhat awkward position as my tall frame slid on top of hers. I was close enough to her that I could smell the soap she used and feel the warm fabric of her clothes. I tried not to notice as I stammered "Umm…I twisted my ankle back at my apartment." Murphy grunted and hoisted me to my feet. I grabbed my staff, which had been laying against the table, and leaned on it heavily.

"Useless wizards," she grumbled back just loud enough for me to hear. The slight blush on her cheeks, however, told me she didn't really mean it.

"Thanks," I said softly, giving her a nervous cough to lighten the suddenly thick tension.

"Oh, right. I can give you a ride to…where are we going, again?"

"I don't know yet," I said, pulling out a tin of smelling salts I kept to clear my nose, "but I'll tell you when we get there."


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own the Dresden Files in any way, shape or form, nor am I using these characters for anything more than my own amusement.

Author's Note: Sorry this chapter is really short, but I wanted to leave it at least a little bit cliffhanger-y. I'll see if I can get the next one up tomorrow, but no promises. A special thanks goes out to Eternal Optimist for reviewing every chapter (you're so sweet!).

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Murphy drove me out to a little village of empty warehouses with a distinct "bad side of town" feel to them. I realized that the Full Moon garage was located pretty close to where we were, which didn't lighten the mood any.

"Turn right here, the smell is getting strong." I was using a tracking spell I had used a couple times before, letting me follow Madrigal's trail with my olfactory senses. It wasn't necessarily the most efficient spell though, as more often than not the directions were vague at best.

"That's what you said ten minutes ago."

"Not my fault roads don't go that way." Murphy's car wasn't exactly built for off-roading, much less driving across Lake Michigan. I looked into the back seat, making sure _Fidelacchius_ was still in place. I really hoped this plan would work. "Uh, hey. Left here, I suppose."

"You suppose?"

"Well, that or go left two buildings ago." Murphy shot me a quick glare. "Oh forgive me, I'm not a walking map!"

She ignored my last comment. "Are we going to get there any time this decade?"

I stuck out my tongue at her, but she didn't see me. I sneezed; the scent was extremely strong here. "Stop," I informed Murphy, "I think this is it." Murphy raised an eyebrow at me, her face showing slight concern. She stopped the car and unlocked the doors, looking at the building I had indicated.

"If Madrigal really is in here, then he has a strange obsession with warehouses," Murphy commented.

"Warehouses don't have thresholds," I explained. "Ghosts can get out of public sight without losing any of their power. Quite a strategic location, actually. And, um…" I paused, wanting to break the news gently, "Madrigal might not actually be in there." Murphy whirled to face me.

"What? I thought you were tracking him!"

I held my hands up to placate her. "I can't track someone without using something that has been a part of them, like hair or blood. I was just tracking places with the highest concentrated amount of flux from the Nevernever. Given Madrigal's power recently, it was a pretty safe bet that he'd be here." Murphy frowned at me, but walked through the doors with her gun held out toward the darkness.

We didn't see the crows at first, as their black ghostly feathers blended into the dark warehouse. I felt them though, a cold, clammy, restlessness in the air.

"I don't like this," Murphy whispered, her quiet voice ringing too-loudly throughout the large room.

"Me neither," I whispered back.

Before I could even finish speaking, the first crow flew at us.

"_Fuego_!" I yelled, pointing my staff at the crow, the flames lighting up the room momentarily, letting Murphy and I know exactly what we were dealing with.

"Shit," Murphy breathed.

Like a scene straight from _The Birds_, we were surrounded by tens - no, hundreds - of beady eyes attached to jet black feathers. And no Madrigal in sight. With a sickening feeling in my stomach, I realized he had set us up.

Again.

The bad thing about lighting up a room is that while you see them, they see you. All of the crows turned and stormed towards us in a flurry of wings. I flung up a shield for lack of a better idea; with crow beaks pecking blue ripples in the shied as soon as I put it up. Murphy started shooting at the birds smart enough to go around it, but there were more of them than she could possibly aim at. A retreat was in order. I let my shield down and triggered the rings on my fingers, yelling "_Forzare_!" The evocation did its job, pushing scores of birds back into the crates at the other end of the room.

We darted back out the door, where we could pick off the birds as they flew through. Murphy had a better idea. She slammed the heavy door shut and bolted it from the outside, staring at it for a few seconds that seemed like forever. A second later, we heard the crows collectively smash against the door. I saw Murphy grip her gun tighter. I pointed my staff at the door, determined not to look away for even a beat.

"Murphy, now would be a good time…" She looked at me, a little nervous, and pulled out _Fidelacchius_ from where it was tied to her back.

"I've never actually fought crows with a sword before," she stated.

I wanted to sneak a glance at her, but instead kept my eyes trained to the door. "You'll be fine. I won't let anything bad happen to you."

That was when the door burst open.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own the Dresden Files in any way, shape or form, nor am I using these characters for anything more than my own amusement.

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Time slowed down. I could see each of the birds coming at us in perfect clarity, from their sharp yellow beaks down to each black feather. I saw the chipped and peeling white paint on the warehouse's doorframe, pockmarked with hundreds of beak-shaped imprints. I saws Murphy standing next to me, her blonde hair messy in the heat of battle. She held _Fidelacchius_ in her left hand and a small semiautomatic handgun in her right. I didn't linger on her too long, however, as I knew my temporary burst of clarity wouldn't last much longer.

The slowdown had served its purpose: I knew who we were aiming at.

Time sped up. Instinctively, I reached over to slap down Murphy's gun. "Don't shoot!" I told her, "They're not real!" I was proven correct as a dozen or so crows flew straight through our bodies and came out the other side. Dampening my joy at figuring out the ruse, Murphy glowered at me.

"Never. Hit. Me. While. I'm. Shooting," she punctuated. I nodded by way of apology and sprinted back into the warehouse. I was on too much of an adrenaline high to notice my twisted ankle, which I was sure would come back to bite me in the ass later. With an effort of will I made my pentacle amulet glow, sweeping the light around the room. Murphy's anger turned into curiosity as she followed me. "What are you looking for?" she asked.

"The crows were to distract us from what we were really shooting at. They were only an illusion."

"Well, then what were we shooting at?"

"I don't—" I began, but then I saw him.

Concealed in the shadows slumped a man of medium height and build. His head hung down, letting his long black hair obscure his face. Pinkish-red blood spread over his white cotton shirt from a bullet hole in his shoulder, and although he was otherwise unharmed, he didn't look like he was breathing. I couldn't see him well in the blue light from my mother's amulet, but I knew all too well who it was.

"Thomas," Murphy gasped from behind me. "I—I didn't shoot him, did I?"

I didn't answer, rushing to my unconscious brother's side. I checked his breathing, which to my utter relief was shallow but still there. The wound in his arm was bleeding a lot, but with my personal knowledge of gunshot wounds, I didn't think it was fatal. All in all, I'd seen my brother live through worse injuries. I just felt guilty that I had gotten him into this situation because I had jumped into a fight without thinking. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

All of a sudden. I heard the sound of slow, sarcastic applause coming from behind me and echoing strangely in the warped acoustics of the room. I turned to see the ghost of Madrigal Raith blocking the only exit to the warehouse, a sadistic grin plastered all over his face. "Bravo, Dresden. You figured out my clever little trick. But now, I fear, the time for fun and games is over." He laughed in an altogether clichéd evil way that made me feel like I was in a bad horror flick. "You took everything from me," Madrigal spat, scorn dripping from his mouth, "I'm only returning the favor."

I started easing to the side, talking to draw attention away from Murphy and Thomas. "Really, Madrigal, don't I at least get a last request? I was thinking something along the lines of a jukebox and some white platform shoes." Murphy caught the hint and started edging toward Thomas—and Madrigal's back.

His eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on, don't tell me you've never seen _Pee-Wee's Big Adventure_?"

The last comment tipped Madrigal on to the fact that something fishy was going on, and he whirled around to see Murphy. In a split second, a spear appeared in his hand and he flung it at her. My heart jumped into my throat as I tried to deflect the spear with my shield, but the second it came up I knew I was too slow.

Murphy dove to the ground in that same second. As my spell uselessly shielded the empty space directly behind and above Murphy, the spear bit into her back. My first instinct was to run towards her, but before I could move Madrigal turned again, his spear somehow back in his hand. He came at me with frightening speed, the seven-foot-long weapon going straight for my chest.

The only thing I could think to do was to hold my staff out in front of me in a pathetic parry and brace for impact. I heard a dull thud and saw the tip of the spear less than an inch from the center of my chest. Madrigal's sneer turned into surprise that I'm sure mirrored my own—his spear had managed to hit the exact center of my staff and had sunk itself up to the haft in the rune-covered wood. It was probably the luckiest block I had ever made in my life. Without taking time to celebrate my victory, I grabbed my staff on either side of the embedded spear and hit Madrigal hard in the chest with the butt of his own seven-foot spear.

"_Ventas Servitas_," I snarled, pointing my staff right a Madrigal's head. To my surprise, nothing happened. The will I had put into the staff simply dissipated without any effect. Madrigal's spear must have disrupted the runes on my staff. At this new development, I took stock of my situation. I was being attacked by an insane vampire ghost with no staff, no blasting rod, and no allies currently capable of fighting.

In short, I was screwed.

Madrigal advanced slowly, clearly enjoying the task of finishing me off. Just as he was about to wrap his hands around my neck, a glowing rend appeared to cut through his entire body at an angle. His face twisted first in confusion, and then anguish. Several more cuts appeared, slashing Madrigal apart. His mouth moved as if he were trying to say something, but then his body melted into a puddle of ectoplasm. Behind where he had stood I saw my brother, wielding _Fidelacchius_ with his good arm. He gave me a lopsided smile and told me "Couldn't let you have all the fun of getting rid of my cousin this time."

I looked at him in tired bewilderment. "You used _Fidelacchius_. You know what that means, don't you?"

Thomas shrugged his uninjured shoulder. "Not particularly. I figure we can have a nice long chat about this later. But right now, we have more pressing matters to attend to." He inclined his head toward where Murphy lay, and my brain kicked into motion.

I ran over to her, sliding my duster off. She had been vainly, and probably painfully, trying to stop the bleeding on her back. I held my duster onto the wound, taking a moment to wish I had brought my bloodstain-less warden's cloak along with me.

"Murphy?" My manly, heroic voice, certainly didn't crack, "Murph, you okay?" She lifted her head just enough to glare at me. "Okay, stupid question." I let out a short, triumphant laugh that probably made me sound crazy then, just happy that we were all still alive. "Well," I said, "now that the fun's over, we should probably get to the hospital."

I picked Murphy up, gently and despite her protests of "chauvinist pig," and headed toward the car.

"I'll drive," Thomas informed me.

"You've been shot," I argued.

"Yeah, and I'm still a better driver than you. Now get in the damn car and shut up."


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own the Dresden Files in any way, shape or form, nor am I using these characters for anything more than my own amusement.

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Thomas dropped Murphy and I off at the hospital, telling us he'd drive back to his apartment to sleep off the worst of his injuries; and I could pick up Murphy's car later. Murphy got admitted to the ER right away—gaping back wound and all—but I had to wait for my ankle to be looked at. I desperately wanted to pace, but the pain from my twisted ankle deprived me of that luxury.

Instead, I got to wheel around the hospital's waiting room in a wheelchair that had been forced on me. Now that my adrenaline was wearing off, I noticed how grotesquely swollen my ankle was. All that running around on it probably had something to do with that. The throbbing pain in my ankle and my worry for Murph combined to make one incredibly ticked-off patient.

I felt sorry afterwards for snapping at the poor nurse who came to tell me that Murphy was ready to see me almost an hour after we had arrived. Luckily, her wound hadn't been deep enough for permanent damage, but she had needed quite a few stitches in her back and was still on mild sedatives.

When I rolled into her room, she was laying on her side facing away from the door, not really watching the TV. It was turned onto some show with a lot of explosions, which I turned off with the remote lying next to her. I parked my wheelchair next to Murphy's bedside, and she propped herself up on her elbows to look at me.

"So, um, how are you feeling?" I asked lamely.

"I've been better. You?"

"I've been worse." We both laughed a little. This sort of situation would have been awkward before, but now hospital visits were almost second nature. After a bit of silence, I added "Look, Murph, I'm sorry I got you into all this. I never should have tried to make you fight my old enemies for me, and—"

Murphy cut off my rambling apology. "Oh, just shut up and listen to me for once, Dresden. I've told you time and time again that it is my jobto protect the citizens of Chicago, and that includes you. And not just that, I _want_ to protect you, even when you don't want me to. I've been thinking about it for a while, and…I love you too."

I noted, in passing, how close our faces were when she had finished speaking, and how beautifully blue her eyes looked in the fluorescent hospital light. There was a brief pause between us then, and the emotional side of my brain told me to kiss her already and the rational side of my brain told me it was probably her sedatives talking and we'd both regret it in the morning. I politely told the rational side of my brain to shut the hell up, and I kissed her.

The next morning, we didn't regret a thing.

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Eventually, the doctors got around to treating me—a simple ace bandage and some painkillers that I could have probably gotten by myself for much less money—and Murphy told me to go home and take a shower.

When I got back to my apartment, my blasting rod was sitting on my table with a note from Thomas. Apparently, he'd sweet-talked it back from the police just before Madrigal had jumped him and taken him hostage.

I showered, then collapsed on my bed to sleep for who knows how long. I woke the next morning to a loud knocking at my door. I shambled over to open it and found Thomas waiting for me. Although he had been shot only yesterday, he looked fresh and cheery. The bastard. "Thought I'd swing by with Murphy's car. We could drop by the hospital and pick her up." I nodded in agreement, still too tired to say much of anything.

As I walked toward the car, I noticed someone across the street. It was just a casual glance, but I thought the person looked familiar. At a second glance, I saw that is was Madeline Raith. She turned to meet my bewildered gaze, nodded coolly as if everything was alright between us, and walked away as if nothing had happened. Thomas noticed the silent exchange, and asked "Was that Madeline?"

"I think so," I replied. "Come on, if we get in the car now we can still run her over." Thomas just laughed and ushered me into the passenger seat. As I sat down, I complained "I'm serious!"

o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

I was relieved to see the sun again after yesterday's "solar eclipse." The sky was cloudless, electric blue that seemed to overcompensate for the previous day's darkness. I saw the sunlight streaming in through the windows of Murphy's hospital room and smiled at the way it lit up her blonde hair like a halo. She had been waiting for me when I arrived with the change of clothes I had brought for her. She took the jeans thankfully, but frowned at the periwinkle-blue and white shirt I brought.

"My mom bought this for me last year," she said thoughtfully, "I've never worn it."

"Too girly for you?" I taunted, but then paused and added seriously "I wanted to see how it would look on you." I didn't mention that I picked it out because I thought it would bring out her eyes. She gave me a little half-smile and told me to turn around. I did, and I certainly did not peek behind me when she was changing her clothes. Murphy wrapped her arms around me and gave me a small kiss on the base of my neck. I suspected she had to stand on her toes to reach that high, but I wasn't complaining. She walked out into the hallway, stopping and turning when I didn't follow.

"You coming?" she asked. I couldn't help but notice that I had been right about the shirt matching her eyes.

"Yeah."

In the past, both Murphy and I had had our own rocky relationships; she dealt with her first two husbands, and I had Susan and Elaine. We had suffered, but we lived and learned. When it came to love, we had our losses.

It's time we won.

o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

"That was one helluva birthday."

I smirked. "At least we didn't die."


End file.
